Chapter 4: The Duke’s Banquet of Scorn

That evening, the grand palace of Duke Vane was ablaze with thousands of beeswax candles. High aristocrats, wealthy merchants, and military commanders gathered in the grand marble ballroom to celebrate the Duke’s birthday.

To further humiliate Irene, Lady Cynthia had sent a royal summons to Alex’s cottage, invoking an old feudal law that required all vassals—including fallen noble daughters—to present themselves at the ducal court.

When Irene walked into the ballroom wearing a simple sky-blue linen dress, every eye turned toward her. Beside her walked Alex, dressed in his dark grey cloak, looking calm and unbothered amidst the sea of velvet, pearls, and gold embroidery.

“Look who decided to show up!” Cassandra mocked loudly, her voice carrying across the silent hall. She stood next to Lord Hector, dripping in diamonds. “Sister, did you dress in rags to match your beggar husband? You look like a servant who lost her way to the scullery!”

Laughter rippled through the noble crowd.

Duke Vane, an old, bloated aristocrat wearing a heavy golden crown, sneered down from his dais. “Irene, your family’s treasonous marriage swap is the joke of Athens. But since you are here, your beggar husband may sing a tune to entertain my hounds.”

Lord Hector snorted. “Your Grace, I broke his lyre this morning in the market! The beggar has no instrument left to play!”

The aristocrats roared with laughter, raising their crystal wine goblets in cruel amusement.

Irene gripped Alex’s hand, her knuckles turning white. “Alex, let us leave this wicked place.”

“Leave?” Alex replied softly, his voice impossibly serene. “Why leave when the performance has just begun?”

Alex stepped forward into the center of the marble ballroom. He had no lyre, yet he raised his right hand toward the high vaulted ceiling.

Suddenly, a strange hush fell over the room.

The thousands of burning beeswax candles lining the chandeliers began to flicker violently. But instead of extinguishing, the flames turned from warm orange into a blinding, celestial golden light!

The shadows in the room vanished completely. The temperature inside the drafty marble palace rose into a comfortable, heavenly warmth that felt like standing under the high noon sun at the peak of summer.

The heavy golden chandelier hanging above Duke Vane’s throne began to hum with a strange acoustic vibration, producing a deep, resonant tone like a choir of angels singing from the heavens.

Duke Vane froze, his goblet slipping from his hand and crashing onto the floor. “What… what is this magic?”

Hector and Cassandra stumbled back, their faces turning pale as they felt an inexplicable, overwhelming pressure weighing down on their chests, forcing them to gasp for air.

Alex looked directly at Duke Vane, his eyes glowing with an incandescent light hidden behind his lashes.

“Music is not played merely with wood and string, Your Grace,” Alex said softly, his voice reverberating through the stone walls like thunder rolling over distant mountains. “It is carried by the sun… and the sun hears every insult uttered in the dark.”